Burning Off the Midnight Oil
by lifeinahole
Summary: AU: Emma is getting ready for a big day and Killian helps her calm her nerves so she can sleep. Shamelessly PWP, One-shot.


Title: Burning Off the Midnight Oil

Warning: rated a very delightful M for PWP!

Summary: Killian helps Emma with her nerves before an important day. AU

A/N: So here's the thing. I'm a grad student, and I'm defending my thesis in about 15 1/2 hours. I am freaking out, but I've been trying to find any way to combat my nerves. And then this happened. This is probably full of typos because I typed it up super fast and then didn't proofread, because I'm an asshole to my own writing tonight. Apologies.

Also, I am working on something longer, so that'll start trickling online when the majority of my big projects have been taken care of and I know I'll have the time to devote to it. I hope you all enjoy this in the meantime!

* * *

Killian is jerked awake when Emma throws the covers off herself and rolls off the bed, padding out of the room like a woman on a mission. He closes his eyes again, assuming she's gone to the bathroom or to get a glass of water, things she normally does when she wakes up in the middle of the night, but he hears a light click on in the living room of their small apartment and exhales heavily before sliding out of the comfort of the bed. He finds a pair of discarded pajama pants on the floor and slides them on before going to find her.

When he gets to the living room, Emma is bent over the coffee table, glasses on her nose, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of underwear and mouthing the words of whatever is on the page in front of her and staring at it so hard he's surprised it's not on fire.

"You need sleep, love," he says quietly. She doesn't look up, just furrows her eyebrows and keeps going. When she reaches the end of the document, she sets the page back down and scrubs a hand over her face, pushing her glasses up on top of her head. He moves to the couch and sits next to her.

"What if I don't pass?"

"Has anyone in this program every failed their thesis defense?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask," she admits.

"And do you think anyone who has worked as hard as you would?"

"Well, no—"

"Swan, I have yet to see you fail at anything. Tomorrow is no exception." He takes her hand, linking their fingers together and tugging her close.

"I'm just—" She pauses, takes a deep breath, collects herself again, "I'm scared. I know I have nothing to be afraid of, and I know you're right. But there's still a pit in my stomach the size of the Grand Canyon and I don't think any amount of preparation is going to stop that from happening."

"I know. But I also know that you'll be brilliant tomorrow. But only if you actually get some rest," he says, and tries to tug her up from the couch as he stands up. She doesn't follow, but she also doesn't let go of his hand. He sits back down and releases her hand, only to pull her into his arms. She tucks her head against his neck, cheek resting on his shoulder. He turns and kisses her forehead, rubbing her back comfortingly.

When she presses a kiss to his neck, he knows he's in trouble.

"Swan," he says sternly, "you need to go to bed."

"I'm not sleepy," she says, then nips the spot where his shoulder and neck meet. "Wear me out?"

Who is he to deny his love?

Killian slips the fingers of one hand beneath the t-shirt, gliding up her bare back and pulling her closer. The other hand threads into her hair and tugs her head up so he can kiss her. She pulls the glasses off her head and throws them on the table before crawling into his lap. Her hands run over his bare chest, through the dark hair that covers it, following it all the way down to the waist of the pants he hastily threw on. The moan rumbles through him as her hands dip into the pants, taking him in hand and sliding her hands against the smooth skin until he's fully hard.

His head falls back on the couch, breath coming quicker, and he strains to keep his eyes open to see the satisfied little smile on her face. She pulls her hand away and shimmies forward, rolling her hips when she finds the position that will drive them both mad. He finds the will power to remove the shirt from her, leaning up to tease one nipple with his lips while his other hand massages her unattended breast. She moans, this beautiful breathy thing that he cherishes every time he hears it, and moves her hips a little faster. He trusts up against her, adding friction between his pajama bottoms and her cotton panties.

Emma tugs his lips back to hers with a rough hand in her hair, sliding her tongue against his the first chance she gets, nipping at his bottom lip as she pulls back.

"Bedroom, now," she says, eyes dark with lust and she slides off his lap. This time, she's the one tugging him off the couch and leading him back to the bedroom, but he has different ideas. He stops in the hall just outside their door, pulling her hips against his and brushing her hair off her neck so he can lick the spot just below her ear.

"Here," he grunts, turning her and leading her hands to brace herself against the wall. He yanks the cotton off her hips and pushes his pajama pants down as she's shifting her hips and arching her back. He doesn't waste time, just slides into her wet heat and pauses long enough to know he won't hurt her, then he's setting a pace that will satisfy them both.

"God, Killian, don't stop," she manages between panting breaths, a loud moan escaping as he slides a hand around her to slide against her clit. She turns her head, and he knows she's watching them in the full-length mirror that hangs on the bathroom door directly across from them. He looks over at it, meeting her gaze and biting his lip. She looks like heaven and sin wrapped into one package: back arched and taking every thrust and pushing back in response. Her hair cascades around her shoulders, falling in front of the sway of her breasts. He leans forward, knowing she's still watching the reflection of their passion, and grazes her shoulder with his teeth.

"You are brilliant," he whispers into her ear. "You are the smartest, most talented woman I know, Emma. And you are going to blow your thesis panel out of the water tomorrow." He can tell by the way her muscles are clenching around him that she's close, so he doubles his efforts, rubbing her a little harder, thrusting a little faster.

"Come for me, Emma." And she does, eyes finally slipping closed and one hand slipping down to grip where he's still circling her clit, her rhythm falling apart as he moves a couple more times and follows her over the edge, climax hitting him in the way it only ever has with her. He rests his forehead between her shoulder blades, hips still rutting against her as they both come down from their orgasms, both still trying to catch their breath.

Her legs are shaking when he pulls out from her and he unceremoniously picks her up, carries her back to their bed and places her gently on it. He grabs a towel to wipe his release off the inside of her thighs, cleans himself, and then moves to the other side of the bed.

"Thank you," she sighs, sleep already taking over as he pulls her close.

"Any time, love," he responds, but she's already asleep. He kisses her temple and wraps an arm tight around her waist.

The next day, she successfully defends her thesis with a smile on her face, and he's waiting just outside the room to congratulate her, knowing smile on his face the whole time.


End file.
